


i (never) knew somebody like you

by BookRockShooter



Category: IT (1990), IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Adult Eddie Kaspbrak, Adult Richie Tozier, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Based on a Tumblr Post, Bisexual Richie Tozier, Flirting, For reasons, M/M, Minor Swearing, Spoilers for IT (King), a little at least, it hurt me so i wrote this, it's not happy like at all, just reddie meeting again as adults and not recognizing each other in time, that mentioned the possibility of eddie being richie's limo driver at some point
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-12 13:06:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19946656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BookRockShooter/pseuds/BookRockShooter
Summary: Richie recognizes his limo driver just a moment too late.





	i (never) knew somebody like you

**Author's Note:**

> i've been thrown back into the it fandom thanks to the new trailer and also bc i recently rewatched the miniseries which i have several feelings for
> 
> soo i saw this tumblr post the other day that briefly mentioned the idea of eddie /almost/ being richie's limo driver at some point and then not so i thought "oh but what if that Did happen" and Here We Are
> 
> this is mostly based off the miniseries so apologies if anything seems?? wrong?? or off?? i haven't had the chance to read the novel yet so all my knowledge comes from the movies and what i read on wikipedia skdjsjkd
> 
> i just have a lot of feelings for 1990s eddie and richie like i love them sm,,,, the miniseries is whack but also amazing imo so Yee also we need more fics with adult!reddie anyway like?? c'mon
> 
> also also this was written in like 2 hours so sorry if it's Not Great sdjksl i just wanted to write Something tbh yeet
> 
> happy reading hopefully!!
> 
> **title is a line from the neightbouthood's "reflections"

“Sorry, hang on–” Richie shifts the phone to his other ear and tugs on the rest of his jacket, squinting at the hotel room’s wall. “Did you say _limo?_ Isn’t that, I dunno, a little much?”

His manager sighs, but he sounds amused when he says, _“Yeah, a limo. Figured you of all people would like that, though.”_

It’s not that Richie’s against fancy transportation such as fucking limousines, no. He just thinks that they’re overkill, especially for a disc jockey such as himself riding in one through the streets of New York to get to this big event or whatever his manager’s having him attend. “Hey, never said I wasn’t a fan,” he shoots back, chuckling. “Just figured limos were more of a Cali thing, y’know?”

_“Famous people live in New York, too.”_

“Wow, really? I had no idea! Guess you really do learn something every day, huh?” He grins when yet another heavy sigh sounds through the phone, making the line crackle in Richie’s ear.

_“Save the jokes for the radio, please. Now hurry up, the driver should be arriving soon. Limo should say ‘Royal Crest’ on the side so you know it’s the one.”_

_Pretentious name,_ Richie thinks to himself as he says out loud, “Oh yeah, because there’s gonna be several other people travelling in limos today and I’ll need to be sure not to get mixed up.”

 _“Just go,”_ his manager snaps before hanging up. Richie cackles to himself for a few moments before his gaze catches on his watch and he winces.

“Shit, I’ll be late at this rate,” he mumbles, then adds, “Hey, that rhymed! I should be a poet.”

He pauses on his way out the door to give himself a quick glance-over in the mirror and smirks approvingly, winking at his reflection. “Damn, if I don’t get laid tonight, it’ll be a crime,” he says cheerfully, swinging the door open and practically bouncing out of his room.

He’s still energized by the time he’s outside, so when he spots the limousine that does, indeed, have _Royal Crest_ painted in gold on the side, he grins and walks over, whistling.

Once he’s close enough, he taps on the passenger side’s window until it rolls down and he’s greeted with a man about his age in the driver’s seat. He’s quite attractive, actually, and Richie has to blink himself back to focus when the man says, “Hi, how can I help you?”

“You must be my ride,” Richie says, grinning, and if he puts a little too much emphasis on the word ride there’s no one around to tell him off for it, so. “I’m DJ Records, and you?”

“Oh!” the driver says, startling. His face looks flushed and it’s really endearing, for some reason. “Sorry, sorry, please get in.”

“Gladly,” Richie replies, and he climbs into the back when the door slides open, acutely aware of the driver watching him the whole time. Once he’s seated properly, the driver nods and starts up the limo, joining the flowing traffic.

It’s quiet for about five seconds before Richie decides that he’d rather not be bored to death the entire ride, and so he says, “So, a limo driver, huh? How’s that working out for you?”

The driver startles again, like he’s surprised he’s being spoken to. _Maybe he’s not very social_ , Richie muses, and then immediately decides _Oh well, I’m still gonna talk to him._

“How’s it working out for me?” the driver repeats, glancing at Richie in the rear view mirror. Richie flashes what he hopes is a friendly smile and the driver laughs softly. “Well, it’s nice, I suppose. I meet a lot of rich assholes, unfortunately, but also some pretty interesting people. So it’s working out well, I think.”

“Hopefully I fall in that second category, there.” Richie can be an asshole, sure, but he’s definitely more interesting when it comes to those two things, right? Hopefully this guy thinks so, at least.

The driver smiles again. “Well, I don’t know you, exactly, but I think you’re leaning towards _interesting_ rather than _asshole-ish_.”

“A win for me, then!” Richie says, letting out an exaggerated cheer.

“Congrats,” the driver says, laughing again, and Richie really likes his laugh, actually. It’s quiet and short, but it’s nice. Cute, even. Can laughs be cute? “You’re a DJ you said, right? What’s that like?”

Richie feels himself brighten at the question. He loves talking about his job, considers himself lucky that he even has it, so he knows he’s about to start rambling and hopes the cute driver doesn’t mind. “Oh, man, it’s fucking _great_. I’ve always wanted to get into some sort of show-business, ever since I was a kid. I always did voices to anyone who would listen, though I’m sure it annoyed the hell out of most of them, and it was fun, so I knew I wanted to do something with them.” As always, memories of his childhood are hard to focus on, but he feels fond anyway because he knows that he had friends who were among the small percentage that liked him and his antics. Or were they annoyed? No, if he’s this happy thinking about them, they must’ve liked him. He shakes his head in an attempt to get back on track, though this fond warmth stays with him even as he keeps talking. “And, uh, I moved to California pretty soon after school, because fuck small towns, right?”

“Shit, yeah,” the driver says, surprising a laugh out of Richie. “Sorry for interrupting there, but, uh, I grew up in a small town too, and it… sucked. What I remember of it, at least. I know I had friends, and that was nice, but the actual town? Fucked up.”

“Mine too,” Richie says, sighing. “Thank god for cities, huh? But, yeah, I ended up in Cali and eventually landed some minor voice-acting positions. Eventually, after years of just other shit going on, I managed to land my current DJing position. I get to meet interesting people too,” he continues, meeting Eddie’ gaze in the mirror for a second and smiling. “It’s cool. Probably cooler than limo driving, to be honest.” Then he winces. _Shit, is he gonna be offended?_

“Hey, I’m the one driving,” the driver says, “so watch what you say.” He’s smiling, though, so Richie doesn’t feel too bad. “That’s really amazing, though, that you were able to get to where you are today! Good job.”

Generally, nice sentiments coming from strangers don’t mean shit to Richie. He appreciates them, sure, thinks back on them when he’s feeling down, yeah, but they don’t really affect him the same way they do coming from people he knows and likes.

But for some reason, the way this guy says it, just a simple _good job_ paired with this soft smile he offers Richie, is enough to make him want to cry. Maybe he’s just getting, like, old and emotional, or something. Whatever it is, he finds himself honestly touched.

He clears his throat and wipes his eyes in a subtle manner, smiling at the back of the driver’s head. “Thanks, man. I appreciate that.”

“Of course,” the driver responds. After a few moments of comfortable silence, he adds, “By the way, hopefully this isn’t weird, but… have we met before? Like, have you been to New York before this?”

Richie frowns at the question. Now that he’s thinking about whether or not he’s run into this driver before, he can’t shake the sudden familiarity he gets when their gazes meet again for a split second before the driver’s facing the road again, his face flushing again. “No, this is the first time I’ve been here,” Richie mutters, “but, yeah, you seem familiar, man. Maybe you’ve been to Cali?”

“Never,” the driver says, sounding just as lost. Then he adds, “Oh, we’re here.”

Suddenly, the event doesn’t seem as important as figuring out who this guy is, and Richie knows that his name is right there, but just as he opens his mouth, someone’s knocking on the limo window a little too frantically considering Richie’s only – he glances absently at his watch – about a minute late.

“You’d better get going,” the driver says, but he sounds just as reluctant as Richie feels. He smiles at him again, and now there’s something so achingly familiar about it that Richie just stares at him, trying his damndest to place it. “Maybe we’ll run into each other again?”

“Hopefully,” Richie says, and his smile is shaky as he climbs out of the limo. “Drive safe, man.”

“Have fun,” the driver responds, and the guy waiting for Richie pauses even as he starts to shove Richie towards the building.

“Hey, Eddie! I didn’t know you were the driver for Richie,” he says cheerfully, and Richie freezes in place because those hazy memories from earlier suddenly come back bright and clear and _holy shit that’s Eds the driver he just spent the last half hour with is fucking Eds._

Richie spins back around the face the guy still speaking to Eddie and says, forcing his voice to keep steady, “Did you say–”

“Get inside, Rich!” the guy hisses. “You’re already later than you were!”

“ _Rich?_ ” the driver – _Eddie_ – gasps, and it looks like he’s about the climb out of the car and Richie starts to head back towards him until somebody from behind grabs his arm.

“Come along, Mr. Tozier!” a woman says snappily, dragging him from the limo, and normally Richie would break free from the grip, but he doesn’t want to hurt her, and he’s also still in absolute shock because that’s fucking _Eds_ back there, what the _fuck_. “You need to get inside!”

“But that’s– I need to talk to him,” he says desperately, but when he glances over his shoulder, the limo’s begun to drive off, and he swears his heart actually drops. “Fuck.”

The woman, while still leading him quite forcefully to the event, glares at him. “You have more important people to be talking to, Mr. Tozier.”

“ _He_ was important,” Richie whispers, finally giving in completely and letting her get him into the building.

Once the event is in full swing, Richie ends up drinking and talking to asshole-ish rich people and drinking more and finally hiding himself in the fancy-as-hell bathroom that he stumbles upon near the end of the night. He’s upset, has been all night, but he must’ve been drinking more than he realized, because he can’t really remember what’s bothering him so much. It involves a guy, he knows, but the details are slipping away, growing fuzzy, and he groans, frustrated.

“Get a grip, Tozier,” he mutters to his reflection, frowning and dragging a hand down his face. “It can’t be that important.”

By the time he’s back at his hotel room nearing one in the morning, drunk out of his mind and also tired as fuck, he can’t remember much of anything from the entire night, and he passes out in bed, dreaming of a soft voice and an even softer smile, both belonging to a faceless figure.

**Author's Note:**

> yay there's that
> 
> it made me sad writing it so hopefully it made others sad bc that's the purpose sjdsdl i love richie and eddie but like,, angst with them is so good,, ah
> 
> soo hopefully this was enjoyable!! a little!! yee
> 
> you can find me on tumblr (bookrockshooter) or twitter (lynsayskick) if you wanna scream about it with me im so hyped for ch 2 omg
> 
> have a good day/night! <3


End file.
